Even amongst Wallace-fans, Oblivion is rarely spoken of with the same enthusiasm as the other short story collections, stories like the introductory Mister Squishy (which was published under a pseudonym in McSweeney's... who was Wallace trying to fool there?) seeming alienating with their jargon and page-long sentences. But what attracted me to these stories was the vulnerability beneath the sheen that these characters had. That they may speak in the jargon of advertisers and pretend to be these people and relish in pretending to be these people, but still remain terribly insecure and vulnerable and needy at heart.